and the devil takes hold [Night,Cherry,Golden] Feb 25, 2013 19:40:17 GMT -5
Post by Phoenix on Feb 25, 2013 19:40:17 GMT -5
LightningClan || Senior Warrior
|Only when he had a warm body struggling beneath his claws was he ever, truly, in his element. He relished the sensation of power, that exhilarating rush, that came from the knowledge that he had the control over another creature's fate. Him and no one else. It was practically electrifying, and up until a few moons ago, he had been under the incorrect impression that he and his sister, who did not appreciate it nearly as much as she should, were the only felines capable of that deliciously dark opinion. As a result of the long days spent slaving under the sun, drilling the minute details into his apprentice until he could perferm the action with a precision unrivaled by few others, he had become very familiar with the young, black and white tom under his tutelage. Ever since the other feline's first catch, he had been grooming him, slowly, meticulously extracting that beautiful potential and molding it into something useful. It was an oddly convenient coincidence, that the tom was his own. Nightpaw, too, had an appreciation for the allure of bloodshed. He was just the cat who would recognize it for what it was, and instead of scorn him, nurture it and cultivate it into something worthwhile.|
And cultivate it, he had. Nightpaw was not yet nearing the end of his apprenticeship, but Whiteshade's fastidious work had already had an effect. Perhaps his opinion was a little biased, but out of all the pathetic youth they called apprentices, his own was far more deserving of the title than his den mates. He carried himself with a confidence, perhaps only visible to his mentor's eyes, that the others lacked. He had a promising future ahead of him. Though he was very firm in his opinion on this particular point, he recognized and acknowledged the importance of having actual evidence to back it up. Therefore, he had enlisted the help of his dear sister and her own apprentice, who was about the same age as Nightpaw, though he did not care enough to confirm his guess, and the siblings would watch as their apprentices sparred with one another. He had no doubt about who would emerge victorious, and should his expectations be proven wrong, someone would make up for it in the form of vigorous training that would make the past few moons look gentle.
Alabaster limbs led the unlikely quartet down the familiar path to the flat area that marked out the training grounds, carrying their owner's equally pale frame alongside his sister's lean one. As usual, he travelled in silence, every movement calculated and deliberate for the utmost efficiency. Crimson eyes scanned the area before him as they entered it, and seeing the unusual sight of a lone, white apprentice with blue eyes stalking a rock, the feline strode over to the unfortunate creature without hesitation. "It would be a wise idea to vacate this area," He suggested, voice surprisingly mild as he addressed the other cat. Icepaw simply looked up at him, and he doubted the tom's intelligence as he had many times before. "Now." Perhaps it was the dangerous tone underlying his otherwise courteous voice or the promise of unpleasant consequences should he be disinclined to obey the direct order, but that single word was enough to get the younger white cat moving. With a patter of paws, he was gone. Red eyes watched him go with something akin to disgust lurking in their depths before returning to the two apprentices.
"Today your fighting skills will be assessed," He spoke smoothly, even as he strode back to the group of felines. Though he included his sister and her pathetic excuse for an apprentice in his sweeping gaze, the tone of his voice indicated that he was predominately addressing his own apprentice. "Cherrypool and Goldenpaw have been generous enough to volunteer their services." The 'with a little persuasion' was implied at the end with the slight pause between sentences. "Basic rules for sparring apply here, I think," He added this, somewhat reluctantly, with a meaningful look in his apprentice's direction. As much as he would adore seeing blood shed on the training ground, it would make for some rather compromising explanations later. "Unless..." He turned to his sister, a politely curious expression adorning his features, "You would like otherwise?" If Cherrypool was willing to risk her apprentice's safety for the sake of realism, who was he to step in the way? It would make for an exciting show, at the very least.